Pet project: a royal reception for man's best friend

Published 11:47 pm, Monday, August 31, 2009

Usually solitary and sullen, Irene was smiling as she planted continual kisses on Greyhound Abby's nose while both of Mary's arthritic hands stroked her brindled back and Martha's wizened grin displayed her delight as she gently scratched the dog's rump.

All eyes in the living room of the Hearth, the dementia floor at Lockwood Lodge Assisted Living in Newtown, were raptly focused on the gentle creature -- a room where, shortly before Abby's arrival, residents sat staring blankly, napped or muttered to themselves while others paced.

The transformation was astonishing. Those who so often seemed disconnected from themselves and their surroundings instantly became grounded in the present -- all hands reaching out to touch Abby and all, who would typically forget, calling her by name.

You would have thought the Queen herself had paid them a visit, though I doubt Her Majesty would have gotten the same reception.

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John and Ann Manley of Newtown stood back and watched, like any proud parents, while their adopted "child" Abby, a retired racing Greyhound, was showered with affection.

A weekly attraction at Lockwood Lodge and the adjoining skilled nursing and rehabilitation facility, Masonicare at Newtown, sweet Abby even dons a "volunteer" photo ID badge around her neck on a red beaded collar when she makes her rounds.

Sensing exactly what to do, Abby quietly moved from one outstretched hand to another, standing patiently while she was hugged and caressed by every one in turn.

Even Alice, who sat in her usual chair in the far corner of the room, soon got up and moved in to join the group, reaching out to touch Abby.

After witnessing this, I was not surprised to later read in a Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association article that observations of nursing home residents in two facilities during a dog's visit showed that 85 to 93 percent of the residents groomed or touched the dog on an average of 15 to 25 times per person.

For the elderly, many who have limited social involvement, companion animals can be an accessible source of social and tactile contact.

The now late Adeline "Mame" Hoinacky was recovering from extensive cancer surgery in the skilled nursing facility several years ago.

Her daughter, Peggy Loulis, then Lockwood Lodge's recreation director (now the customer service person there) said that her mother had been unresponsive for a week when one of the therapy rabbits was brought into her room.

"We put it next to her and placed one of her hands on his back; almost immediately she began stroking the rabbit," Loulis said, still seemingly astounded.

"And that rabbit just sat there on the bed next to my mom for nearly half an hour -- almost like he knew what she needed. He didn't even try to jump off of the bed, which wasn't at all like him."

Another Masonicare Pet Therapy volunteer, Jane Hellman, who has been bringing her Standard Poodles to visit residents since 1995 said, "I feel blessed to have their wonderful, sweet, sensitive souls in my life and I want to share them with people who I think will enjoy their love and benefit from their visits."

She introduced me to white, fluffy Jeanna who, Hellman reported, excitedly tugs on her leash each time they arrive for a visit to pull her more quickly into the door.

The International Journal of Nursing Studies found that in a visiting program at a residential home, residents interacting with puppies showed "improvements in their social interaction, psychosocial function, life satisfaction, mental function and level of depression, social competence and psychological well-being in comparison with the control group."

And according to a 1990 piece in The American Journal of Alzheimer's Care and Related Disorders and Research, "nursing home patients with Alzheimer's disease showed improved social interactions amongst themselves and with staff and increased calmness, when provided with weekly interaction sessions with Golden Retrievers."

But for me, the proof was in the pudding.

We took Abby on a "house call" to visit a resident who prefers to spend the day alone in her room: an elderly woman who paces incessantly while loudly stringing together unrelated words, rarely able to utter even a lucid phrase.

When she saw the dog, she sat down quietly and cooed, "ooh look at that."

She laughed and gently stroked her head, gazing directly into Abby's eyes.